


Domestic Rites

by thatfangirl



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: F/F, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatfangirl/pseuds/thatfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It all starts when Taylor buys a house in Nashville.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Rites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smithereen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/gifts).



> Although these characters are based on actual personas, this story is entirely fictional.

It all starts when Taylor buys a house in Nashville.

When the housewarming party winds down, Taylor puts on a too-innocent look and offers Demi and Selena the guest room. Demi has to stifle the urge to kick Taylor surreptitiously because BFFs sharing a bed is not look-worthy unless you're _trying_ to make people think otherwise, but Selena just smiles graciously and accepts.

Demi is sleepily ruminating over Taylor's idea of subtlety when Selena says, "I like this."

It takes Demi an embarrassingly long time to assemble the sentence, "It's a great place."

"No, I mean." It's too dark for Demi to see the adorably scrunched-up expression she knows is on Selena's face. "I want to have—not a house, I don't want to buy a house, not in L.A.—an apartment. I love my mom and Brian, but I think we'd all appreciate a little space. But I don't want to live alone, either."

Demi loves her family, too, but: "An apartment'd be cool."

She's drifting back to sleep when Selena prompts, "We're turning eighteen soon."

"Yep. Cigarettes and porno, here I come." Demi realizes that could be a pun and chuckles at her own wit.

Selena lifts her hand from Demi's thigh long enough to slap it. "You're lucky you're cute."

"_Yes, you want her_," Demi sings loopily. "_Look at her, you know you do_."

Selena kisses the girl, briefly, then asks, "What if we got an apartment together?"

Demi thinks about that. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Yes?"

"Then, yes."

*

They sign the lease on Demi's birthday, but they don't move in immediately. They agree not to bring any furniture from their parents' houses, and finding the right pieces takes time. Selena decorates like she dresses, a la a thirty-year-old sophisticate, while Demi is well aware that she's an eighteen-year-old rock star.

After the compromises have been made and the furniture has been delivered, they have to transplant their voluminous closets. One of the apartment's selling points was a ridiculously large but completely necessary walk-in closet for each bedroom. The bedrooms are connected by a master bath, and when Demi puts her toothbrush with Selena's, warmth blossoms in her chest.

Finally, they lock the door behind their damp-eyed moms, and then they are alone in their apartment.

Selena collapses onto the couch. "I'm never moving again," she declares.

"Me neither," Demi agrees, collapsing on top of her. "Guess you're stuck with me."

"Guess so."

Selena's voice is lower than usual, and Demi knows what that means. They make out until Demi's kissing as much of Selena's cleavage as her v-neck will allow, which is normally when Selena puts on the brakes and Demi spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling. They've slept together, but they've never _slept together_, for reasons that are tied up with the pearl ring on Selena's right hand. But after Prop 8, Selena must think this is commitment enough because she's tugging at the hem of Demi's shirt.

Demi knows that Selena wants her first time to be special, accompanied by candles and rose petals, not their new leather couch squeaking its encouragement. So, though it kills her, she slows things down until they're once again kissing lazily.

After they brush their teeth, Demi follows Selena into her bedroom. Selena makes an excellent big spoon.

*

A week passes before their schedules align and Demi can run her smooth pimp game. She considers cooking Selena's favorite meal, and then considers all the ways that could go wrong. Instead, she gets takeout from Selena's favorite restaurant. She keeps it warm in the oven, so when Selena arrives, she doesn't say hello, just, "That smells amazing."

After a correspondingly amazing dinner, Demi puts on Etta James and cajoles Selena into dancing. She leads Selena around the living room and down the hall until they bump into Selena's door. Demi left it unlatched, and it swings open invitingly. Quickly, Demi scoops the matches from her pocket and lights the candles she arranged earlier. She stopped short of scattering petals, but there is a vase of yellow roses on the dresser, and their perfume drifts through the room.

Demi's game gets a little less smooth after they lie down. She played a sold-out Madison Square Garden when she was fifteen, but now her hands are shaking so much she can't unbutton Selena's shirt.

Selena catches Demi's hands and kisses them until she relaxes. They make love, and it's not flawless, but it is perfect.

*

"I don't know what's so fascinating about me taking out the trash," Demi grouses as she locks the front door. "I mean, who wants to see that?" She pulls off her sunglasses and holds out the newspaper. She doesn't understand why they pay for a paper when they have the internet, but Selena is resolute about doing her part to save print media. Plus, she likes the crossword.

Selena takes the paper and replaces it with a cappuccino. She bought a gourmet coffeemaker last week and has been mastering it since. Demi consumes most of her creations. One afternoon, she had two espressos and Selena had to put her on a Twitterbreak, lest she take the whole site down.

Before Demi takes her first sip, she catches sight of the heart Selena drew in the foam, and her own heart constricts. When she trots into the kitchen, Selena already has the paper spread out on the table. She's clicking her pen rhythmically. "What's a four-letter word for where you hang your hat?"

"Hook?" Demi hazards, sitting down opposite her. She leafs through the discarded sections of the paper and settles on an article about climate change legislation.

Selena's keeping her mind sharp and Demi's keeping abreast of current events, but underneath the table, their knees are touching. When Demi leaves her hand beside her mug, Selena covers it with her own.

*

Although they're going to Texas for Christmas, Demi insists on getting a tree. She wraps it in six strands of lights and presents Selena with an _Our First Christmas_ ornament. Taylor comes to help decorate, and Demi puts on a virtual fireplace DVD. Selena gives her a look that suggests she will pay for her tackiness later.

Rather than making Taylor run the paparazzi's gauntlet twice in one evening, they offer her Demi's room. Demi uses her bedroom daily, but she's never slept there, so the bed is still crisply made.

"Guys?" Taylor calls from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Come in," Demi calls back, and Taylor does. She blinks her doe eyes at where Selena is snuggled against Demi's back. "Yes?" Demi prompts.

"Uh, this was in your bed." She holds up what Demi's sleep-addled brain finally processes as a framed cross-stitch of "Bless This House."

Selena is stirring. "What do you mean, that was in her bed?"

"I mean, it was underneath the covers and I hit my funny bone on it. It's fine, though," she hastens to reassure them.

Demi gestures for Taylor to hand the cross-stitch over. Attached to the back is a note. She recognizes the handwriting. "Shit."

_Demi_, the note reads. _Congratulations on your new apartment! I thought I'd surprise you with this. Your grandma made it for your father and I. Call me in the morning. Love, Mom._

She passes the note to Selena, who says, "Shit."

*

Demi hangs the cross-stitch in the kitchen. She figures that's hearth-ier than the living room, virtual fireplace or no.

Her mom invites herself over to _ooh_ and _ahh_ at the tree. Demi insists on fixing them hot chocolate because that's the seasonally appropriate drink, even in California. Dianna follows her into the kitchen, and Demi hears her tut when she notices the cross-stitch.

"I was beginning to think you didn't like it."

"Uh," Demi says, "no. I like it. Thank you. It means a lot, that you would give it to me. And Selena."

Dianna stares at her appraisingly, but rather than commenting, she takes the marshmallow creme from the cupboard and adds a dollop to Demi's mug.

They sit on the couch, lights turned off to better appreciate the tree's multicolored brilliance. Dianna squeezes Demi's knee. "It's hard to believe my baby is out on her own."

"_Mom_," Demi complains, then adds, "I'm not on my own." She isn't sure she should push this, but: "I'm with Selena."

"I know that, baby."

"You do?"

"You know she's like another daughter to me." Dianna sighs. "I'm looking forward to going home for Christmas."

Demi guesses that means the Selena conversation is over, if it ever began. "Me, too, Mom." She does miss Texas. It's just that, with the right company, she'd be content to stay in L.A.

*

"Demi?" Selena calls from the front door. "Why are all the—oh."

Her mom is gone, but Demi is still sitting in the dark, Christmas tree twinkling, virtual fireplace crackling, Bing Crosby warbling. "Admiring my handiwork," she explains, taking a sip of her second hot chocolate.

"You've got—" Selena gestures at Demi's lip, and maybe she strategically smeared marshmallow creme there. "Let me—" She kisses it away.

Demi pulls Selena onto her lap. "I won't get to see you Christmas morning."

"I know, but I convinced Mom to start dinner at three this year." Their families always eat Christmas dinner together.

"Not the same," Demi pouts.

She must have caught Selena in an indulgent mood because she's smiling. "Why don't we take advantage of this festive atmosphere and exchange gifts now?"

Demi's face lights up. "Okay!"

They hop up and hurry to their bedrooms, then meet in the hall. Selena holds out a black velvet box. "Open it," she says intently.

Inside is a pearl ring. "Oh," Demi whispers. Selena slides it onto her right ring finger, and they hold out their matching hands. "Oh." Demi is not crying, just like she didn't cry after their first time. "_Thank you._" Impatiently, she nudges Selena with a slender box. "Now open yours."

Selena lifts the lid to reveal a three-stone diamond pendant. "Demi, it's beautiful," she gasps. "Help me put it on."

Demi does the clasp and centers the pendant over Selena's breastbone, then presses her finger to the first diamond. "Past," she explains, then indicates the second, slightly larger stone. "Present." Carefully, she taps the last, largest diamond. "Future."

Selena interlaces their fingers, clinking promise rings that now promise something else, and kisses her understanding.

*

When Demi arrives at Selena's house in Grand Prairie, Selena's mom hugs her tighter than she has in years. Like always, Demi asks Mandy how she can help and, like always, she gets shooed from the kitchen. She swipes a cookie on her way out, then perches on the arm of a couch to watch the various Cornetts, Teefys, Lovatos, De La Garzas, and a certain Gomez.

As though sensing Demi's scrutiny, Selena looks up. Their gazes lock above the noise. Then Selena's gaze drops, but only to Demi's right hand.

Mandy calls everyone to dinner. Demi does a quick headcount and realizes, "There aren't enough seats at the kids' table."

"There are," Selena assures her, leading Demi to what she's always thought of as the grown-ups' table. Demi rubs her thumb against her ring. She supposes that cohabitation and commitment qualify her. But that means—

Mandy asks, "Demi, would you like to lead the prayer?"

Everyone knows, and everything is okay. "Sure," Demi agrees, "uh." She sees her mom fold her hands, and then the words come easily. "'Bless this house, O Lord, we pray...'"

Under the table, Selena's leg presses against hers, and Demi knows: she's home.


End file.
